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FESTOONS OF MULTICOLORED MOONS

Having safely run the gauntlet of ungentle suasion and rude argument, we leave the street to seek our traveling companion,—a dignified delightful doctor from the classic town of Boston, with whom we share a room in our hotel, which like all other hostelries is at this season more than overcrowded. We meet him strolling down a lantern-draped and shady promenade, musing perchance upon distant beauties of the Boston Common, perchance regretting that no bakery of Boston beans has been installed upon these grounds devoted to good cheer and revelry. We are determined that the doctor shall be consoled for lack of beans by an abundance of brown buñuelos. We diplomatically direct his steps to the street from which we have just escaped, maliciously anticipating his dismay at the un-Bostonesque behavior of the Buñoleras whose sole desire is to induce the public—by fair means or foul—to risk a case of

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